Maybe Just One Slice
by TalkAboutGoodGirls
Summary: [Masky X OC Fanfic] Miriam is a 19 year old girl in college who bakes cheesecakes to pay the bills. Masky is, well, he's not entirely sane. But with a little effort, and cheesecake, that can all be overlooked. M for language, substance use, and some sexual themes that may or may not progress. Proceed with caution and enjoy.
1. Chapter 1: Failure

"Shit! I'm going to be late," I curse as I slip on my pink heels and grab my clutch. And like that, I'm out the door. I jog to my car and get in, the radio was on full blast and when I start my car,_Misery Business _by Paramore is blaring. I hastily turn it down and back out of my drive way (thing). I glance at my apartment briefly and drive off. I'm heading to some tacky Italian restaurant to meet my boyfriend. I appreciate the effort on his part, but I would be just as satisfied with staying home and watching horror movies in my sweats for a date. I'm about halfway there when a car cuts me off; needless to say, I didn't like that. "Learn to drive you fucking cunt!" I shout at the man who cut me off. He glares at me and flips me off. I just roll my eyes and continue driving.

Finally, I pull up to the restaurant. I park and step out, surprised to see my boyfriend, Parker, leaning against a pillar, waiting for me. I smile and close my car door as he makes his way to me. Even with heels, I'm shorter than him, so he leans down to peck my lips. I smile once more and grab his hand as he leads me into the restaurant.

"You look amazing, Mir," he says to me.

"Thank you, you too," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder. His shirt is remarkably soft and it smells of cologne which I love. We meet a young man who leads us to our table and I smile at Parker as we sit down, he doesn't smile back. We sit in silence for a moment when he breaks it.

"So, we haven't talked in a few days. Anything new?" he asks.

"Hardly, pain-in-the-ass teachers, dissecting shit, the usual," I tell him, he nods and I find myself staring into his incredible green eyes, marveling at his jawline, my eyes finding his short brown hair. He is really quite handsome, and nice, and smart, and brave, and-

"Miriam? Miriam D'Amico?!" shouted an unpleasant familiar voice. I turned my head to see the one and only, Terry Orchard. She was the 'queen b' in high school, she knew EVERYBODY, incredibly popular, pretty, and glitzy, but a backstabbing bitch. She would get close to you, and then fuck you over. She was wearing a short silver dress, sunglasses indoors like your common scumbag, and a pair of knee-high boots, just like I remember her.

"Oh hello," I say, coldly.

"I haven't seen you in forever! We were SO close in high school—she noticed Parker smirking at he situation and waved at him, he smiled—and who's this? I don't suppose you got a boyfriend." She extended her hand to him and he took it and shook it slowly, not breaking eye contact with her, they both exchanged names. She let go of his hand and smiled nervously. She began digging in her bag, producing two small pieces of paper.

"Well, I won't interrupt your date any further, but here—she handed each of us her number—my number, call, we should catch up some time," she said and walked off with an obnoxious click of her boots. As if I would want her number, I discard it by throwing it under the table and once more it falls silent around us.

"She seems nice," says Parker, once more breaking the silence. I looked up and him and gave him a skeptical look.

"Yeah, 'seems' and 'is' are a little different though," I explain and he nods. The waiter shows up with 'on the house' breadsticks. We ordered and talked a bit, but it was uncomfortable. The eye contact they shared, it made me uneasy. He doesn't look at me like that. I'm probably just being jealous, he didn't mean anything by it…I'm sure.

When we finished dinner, we shared a long kiss and bid one another good-bye. He tried to get me to go back to his place and "hang out", but I told him it was late and we'll hang "another time". But we won't, I've already set my mind on losing 'it' to someone I trust, and love, _deeply_. And I just don't feel that with Parker, yet. He said he understands and I'm grateful for that, he's a good guy. And it's not like we haven't got intimate, there has been kissing and touching, and _groping_, but nothing more. I sigh and continue to drive home in silence; I finally turn on the radio and listen to my favorite band, Pantera. I sing softly to the music and nod my head;

I turn the song off as I pull into my driveway; I take my keys out and get out and walk over to my door, unlock it, and step in. I have this nagging feeling of being watched but I shrug it off. I pull my heels off and leave them at the door.

I take off my collar necklace, and undo the straps on the back of my pink crop top and pull off my skirt, I'm left in my bra and panties so I undo the clasps on my bra and toss it onto the floor with my clothes. Next, I grab a tee shirt and shorts and slip them on my slender frame. I walk over to my bathroom and pull my hair back to take my make-up off and wash my face. When I'm done I release my hair from the head band and take out my contacts and put on my glasses. Before I leave I glance at the mirror and see my reflection. "Yikes, so that's what natural Miriam looks like," I say to myself, laughing. I turn off the bathroom light and grab a pair of socks because my feet are cold—and because I want to slide around on my tile floor—yep! I never grew up. I walk—slide—to my kitchen and hook my phone to my speaker and begin blaring rock music. Normally, I would be courteous because of my roommate, Matt, but he's out on vacation with his boyfriend, so I can blare music ALL I want. I begin singing along and sliding around. But I have to bake some cheesecakes for my little 'business'. Okay, it's just a couple families that drop by once a week for homemade cheesecake, but I need the money. It's easy money, and something to do while I'm not working part-time. I grab the cream cheese and graham crackers and other ingredients and get to work.

I wonder to myself, _how the __**fuck**__ do I have time to juggle a relationship, school, a part time job, and a small business?_ I shake my head.

"I'm kind of amazing," I say as I put the pans into the oven and begin to clean up, and yes, occasionally sliding around.

Every time I move to put a dish in the drying tray, I see the scars on my wrist and I frown. I was really depressed a few years ago and resorted to self-harm…I don't think there's a day when I don't regret it, but I own up to it. It was my fault and I have the scars to prove it. But you know what? I'm a survivor. As-a-matter-of-fact, I'm considering a 'LLAP' tattoo on my wrist in cursive over the scars. Because I'm not just a survivor, I'm a hardcore Trekkie. A wide grin spreads across my face at the thought and I dry my hands and grab an iced tea and cigarette and sit down on my couch as I wait for my cheesecake to be done. I text my friends and watch TV as I smoke the cigarette and down my tea.

I still have that feeling of being watched but I assume it's just me thinking too much, I shrug it off once more and put out my cigarette. I'm watching a documentary on serial killers because I find it so intriguing. Okay, I'm girly on the outside, but on the inside I love listening to heavy metal and watching stomachs being split open. Only a few people know thati and I like it that way, otherwise people will call me "psycho" or "goth" or just plain weird. So that's probably why I'm so introverted. A 'ding' brings me back from dreamland and I find myself jogging to my oven.

Wow, nice, smooth, pristine cheesecake. It's almost…orgasmic. I laugh out loud at my mental joke. I take the cheesecake out and smell the baked goodness that is this cheesecake. I smile and leave my cheesecake out to cool down. I walk back over to my couch and lay down for about 30 minutes, just watching my documentary.

I take a deep breath and walk over to the kitchen and put my cheesecakes in the refrigerator, turn off the lights, and go to my room to sleep, but not before brushing my teeth. I brush out my short, wavy, platinum blonde and light purple hair and climb into bed. I charge my phone and pull the blanket over my body. And sleep takes over not too long after.

I wake up around 3:00 AM, I feel odd. Okay, now that feeling of being watched is so intense I can't ignore it. I pull the blanket up to my body, suddenly feeling very insecure. I take my phone and launch my flashlight app and scan the room with it, and my pulse races when I see _it._

I immediately back up until my back hits the wall behind my bed, the blanket sinks down to my hips."Holy fuck, man," I say. I reach for a tube of mace, but it probably won't do me any good considering the mask. "Get out of my house!" I yell at the masked intruder. He just stands there, unmoving, that's when I notice the glimmer of a knife, and he charges towards me and gets on top of me and tries to stab me. This only makes me angry and I find myself shouting at him. "Oh **FUCK **no, asshole. I didn't get this close to being able to legally buy alcohol to die now," I say I raise my feet and kick him off of me. This situation is really odd, some _man_ is in my house, and I only have a fucking tube of mace. He stands up and charges at me once more, I move away as he attempts to hit and he runs into the wall.

"You suck," I laugh. Probably not the best idea right now, but this whole situation is just _ridiculous_. He tilts his head, clearly confused. I take the opportunity to run out of my bedroom and he follows behind. Being the strategist I am, I formulate a plan and hide near my front door. He runs toward it and stops, looking around, once he's facing the other way, I come out of my hiding place and kick him between the legs with all the force I can muster. He cups the area and I take this distraction as an opportunity to unlock the door and push him out, he tries to stab me quite a few times, but I manage to dodge most of his hits. One gets me straight across the arm before I manage to kick him out. I press my back against the door, my chest heaving up and down violently.

I know he's still there so I try to scare him off. "If I were you, I'd take off. Because I'm calling the cops if you don't," I threaten. He responds with a very audible sigh and I smile. I watch him storm off through the peephole. I doubt he's used to failure. I'm not the smartest, or the most cautious woman, so I open my door and call out to him. "Hey Masked Man," his head whips around I can he's incredibly confused at this point. I stick up my middle finger and tongue out at him he simply stares. I was so caught up in my success I got arrogant and I remember one more time that he's incredibly dangerous, so I slam the door and bolt it like there's no tomorrow. I push my couch in front of it; don't ask me how I managed to with my tiny frame. I bolt my windows closed and feel an intense satisfaction from escaping a killer's clutches. Still, I call a friend to stay with me and he agrees, while I patch up my arm.

See that masked asshole fuck with me now.


	2. Chapter 2: Success

I wrap the bandage around my arm as I try my best to not grin like a madwoman, but I just can't help it. I escaped a killer; I kicked him in the balls, and kicked him out of my house! I was able to survive an ordeal like that with my life, doubt anyone else can say that. Probably because they're dead, and you don't get a whole lot of words out post-mortem. Beside the point, I'm alive and damn, I'm proud.

"Fuck you—I try and think of a decent way to refer to my almost murder as, I suppose something simple will do—Masky!" I shout to no one.

My arm is bandaged up and although I did lose some blood, I feel fine. The cut wasn't deep enough to do any real damage, so I'm grateful for that. I clean up the blood I left around my sink and walk over to my room. I check my phone, I have a couple new messages but one catches my eye, it's titled "unknown" so out of curiosity, I tap it. The message reads, _Miriam, you have escaped my clutches, this time. Fear me, I will be back, and I will succeed in my mission. _Okay, number one, how'd this asshole get my name? Two, if my 5'3, 90 pound self was able to kick a grown man's ass, literally, I'd like to see him try again. I decide to respond to the unknown number.

_Listen…Masky, you fuckin' psycho, you come here, you better pack a fuckin' machine gun because I don't go down easy. I'm NEVER gonna stop fighting for my life. And you have no right, NO right, after all the shit in my life to swoop in and try to take that away from me for your own selfish pleasures. FUCK YOU._

I click send and feel an immense satisfaction. I'm sassing a serial killer, and I love it.

**I decided to send my target a message via text. She escaped my grasp, how? How could that tiny girl best me? She had all the makings of an easy target; alone, female, small, AND unarmed. And admittedly, I may have targeted her because of the cheesecake. But I did NOT expect her to even fight back, let alone win. I sigh as throw my head back against the tree I'm leaning on. The phone I used is disposable, and I made the number unknown so I'm untraceable. I get a reply from Miriam pretty fast. My eyes scan over every line in the message. She is really quite vulgar, cursing every sentence, at least. And how does she know my name? Probably just a guess. But I see her point—damn, I've never even stopped to consider my victims' outlooks on me, I never really cared and they didn't exactly have the ability to voice any opinions, being dead and all—she has in her words "gone through a lot of shit" and I come along, and deprive her of that…NO. I do what I do for a reason and I have just as many if not more rights to her life than she does.**

**But I can't help but think this girl is different, she's unique. I feel the need to know her better, to understand **_**her.**_

After I sent him the text, I moved out of my room and pushed the couch away from the door—again, don't ask—so my friend, Daniel, could get in. It would be another 20 minutes before I heard the knock on my door, so I relax on my couch and smoke another cigarette. I don't smoke often; I have good impulse control, maybe a cig or two every week, something to be damn proud of. I inhale the smoke and blow it out, watching as the gray dust fills the air.

When Daniel finally shows, I hug him and explain what I can.

"Miriam, is everything okay? You sounded scared on the phone," says Daniel.

"Yea, yea I'm fine," I tell him. "But I called you because someone broke in to my house, he tried to kill me—I see Danny's eyes widen, we've been friends for about 3 years, and I know he worries about me despite only being 30 minutes away—but I'm here, and I kicked the intruder's ass."

I see him smile, and it's comforting. "I was just wondering if you'd…stay with me," I finish.

"Always Miriam," he promises and moves to sit on the sofa. "I have to ask though, how'd to manage to kick a grown man's, well I'm assuming a grown man, ass?" he asks.

"Luck," I shrug, and he doesn't push the subject. We'll talk about this in the morning. "Here, take this knife—I hand him a kitchen knife—if he comes back and tries anything, stab the shit out of him." He nods, I go to the next room, grab a blanket off my bed, hand it to him, and bid him goodnight, feeling safer now. I bring my own knife to my bedroom and tuck it under my pillow as I climb into bed.

I wonder to myself; why'd I call Daniel and not Parker? It's just that, I feel safer with Daniel. Does that make me a bad person? I wonder as I stare up at the ceiling in my bed, cocooned in my blankets as I hear Daniel's soft snoring in the next room.


	3. Chapter 3: Understand

I awake to The sun shining is through my window; it must be about 9:00. I climb out of bed and walk towards the lancet in my room.

My apartment has an almost gothic charm to it, with the dark walls I've taken to covering with band posters and quotes, and countless articles of cathedral-style furniture adorning it. And of course, being the Barbie I am, my room is covered in pink, for the most part. The window is small, maybe even a tad narrow. I look out, I see an apartment opposite me, a few neighbors out walking, but what really catches my attention is the trees.

Ah, the trees. I love them, green and so beautifully natural. I take a deep breath and turn away from the window only to be met with Daniel right behind me. He's smiling, seemingly taking in the sights covered by the man-made structures. He looks down at me, and nods. I didn't even hear him behind me, being the not-so-mindful-of-her-surroundings girl that I am.

I smile at him, and decide to break the silence.

"Morning Daniel," I say moving away from him and over to my closet to get ready for class.

"Morning," he replies as he continues to stare out the window. "He didn't come back last night, right?" he asks, worried.

I let out a sigh at the thought of _him _and continue looking through my closet for an outfit. "No, Dan, thank God."

He nods and leaves the room, allowing me privacy. He's not one for conversations; he's the silent but always-has-your-back, kind of guy. I'm glad to have someone like him in my life.

I grab underwear, a t-shirt, and a pair of pink ripped jeans; I head over to my bathroom to shower. I strip out of my shirt, shorts and underwear and jump in. I don't wash my hair; just rub some of my soap over my body, washing away all the lotions and perfumes I wear. Once I've finished washing, I step out and tie a towel around my body. I dress in my colorful shirt and jeans and spray some of my perfume on myself; next I grab my "lucky" black ring and slide it over my finger. I walk back over to my bathroom and apply my make-up, I've decided on some pink eyeshadow on my eyelids, a bit of liner and some mascara. I apply some gel to my brows, and finally, put a pretty pink lipstick on. I decide to leave my hair the way it is; wavy. Once I'm done with my make-up, I slide a pair of nude heels on. I hardly have anything besides my heels, so I find myself wearing them on a regular basis. I finish by grabbing my backpack, which I put my knife into, I need to be cautious. I pick up my headphones and—you guessed it—pink sunglasses and put them on. I check the time, it reads 10:06 so I walk over to my kitchen and grab an apple and I'm out the door.

Daniel left already, he does things like that, and he is one mysterious dude. I get in my car and drive to my university, listening to Frank Sinatra on the way there. I park, and walk into in my "classroom". My professor is explaining a paradox to my…fellow students when I walk in so I slip up the stairs to my chair and pull my laptop out of my bag.

My professor, Mr. Puth, an older guy with a lanky build and striking ivory hair notices me.

"Well it appears Miriam thought she could James Bond her way in here and we wouldn't notice," says professor Puth.

The room erupts into laughter and I notice a few eyes on me; I simply smile as he continues the lesson. I work on a thesis for another class, and occasionally stop to ponder on the things Mr. Puth is teaching. The room is silent aside from his soothing voice. My phone vibrates and I make a stealthy grab for it, assuming it's my grandma, the woman who raised me. But no, it's him.

_Come outside to the parking lot_ the text message reads. I look around the room and see no one's looking, so I quickly text back, chewing my nails waiting for his reply.

_And why in the FUCK would I do that, hm? _

_Because I believe we should talk, and you have nothing to worry about, considering the knife._

He's been watching me? The nerve of this dickhead. My professor catches me texting so he calls out to me. "Miriam-"

I interrupt him, "excuse me," I almost whisper as I grab my bag and walk out of the room. What am I doing? I wonder what the Masked Man wants to talk about, and why I agreed to meet him. He's incredibly dangerous, and he's made an attempt and a threat on my life. But he intrigues me, believe it or not. I can't believe I think that, but I do. I hate my curiosity and wish I can just ignore the way he tempts me to understand him.

Once I'm near the door leading to the lot, I push it open and look around. He's leaning against the wall beside the door and I roll my eyes at his attempt to look cool.

I take a step towards him, and he looks me up and down. This makes me uncomfortable but I do my best not to show it. There is still a space between him and I; and I want it that way.

"What do you want?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, doing my best to look disgusted instead of intrigued.

"Like I said in my message, to talk," says the masked man. I take a moment to look at him, like he did to me.

He has a surprisingly normal voice. It sounds like any other guy's would. He's tall and looks like he works out. His white mask has black feminine features on it and he wears a yellow zip-up coat and black pants. He looks like something you'd see on Halloween.

What I call "observing" he probably considers starring, so I look away and back at him.

"Talk? You tried to kill me," I say harshly.

"But you're here."

"Because I kicked your balls!"

He looks down and then back up at him, I'd guess he was embarrassed.

"I have every right to call the cops on your ass. Give me a reason not to," I spit.

He just looks around; he can't give me a reason. I shake my head, and he stays silent, I realize he called me out here to talk, not to get yelled at and interrogated, so I try a different approach.

"Well, thank you. I'm alieve, which is good," I say, looking down at my heels. He had the chance to kill me, and he didn't, which I'm grateful for.

"You're welcome," he says quietly.

"I'm Miriam, and uh, I've nicknamed you Masky."

He laughs. "I go by Masky, actually."

I extend my hand and he stares at it for a moment before taking it and shaking it. I just stare at his mask, and he stares back at my blue eyes. Our hand shaking slows and we're just staring at each other. I want to understand why he's the way he is. Why he chose this life when he seems like such a normal guy, why he picked me, and why I'm alieve.

I break out of my trance and clear my throat and he drops my hand. I smile politely and look around, this got awkward pretty fast.

"Well, I'm- I'm…" I point to the door to signal I need to get back to class. I seemed to have lost my ability to form words. He nods, tucks his hands into his pockets and disappears into the distance. I bite down on my bottom lip, one of my worse habits.

That eye contact, it was exactly like what Terry and Parker shared last night, I think I'm beginning to understand what was behind that "hand shake".


	4. Chapter 4: Confuse

Masky chapter…basically just taking things from his perspective since I last did his POV. Enjoy.

* * *

After I receive Miriam's message, I stand up and make a trek through the dark woods to Slender Mansion. With every lift and fall of my boot I hear the twigs beneath my boot snap. The air is thick, the silence, eerie. I continue walking until I reach the mansion, I knock three times quietly on the door, getting no answer, I slowly turn the knob to discover it's unlocked. I step into the quiet living room only to be met with the unmistakable greasy long black hair of Jeff the Killer.

He sits upon the deep red colored couch, sharpening his knife and grinning—not that he has a choice in the matter—I move over to sit on one of the chairs surrounding the long couch. He looks up at me and his black hair parts ever so slightly in a curtain-like fashion to reveal the grotesque features of his face.

"Well if isn't Slenderman's favorite puppet," he mocks me in his raspy voice. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of getting to me verbally, so I relax against my chair and look nowhere, ignoring him.

He begins making disgusting growling sounds and when I glance back at him, he almost looks feral. I just stare at him from behind my mask, and he seems to be getting angrier by the second. Just then, I hear a child's humming and tiny feet coming down the stairs.

I look up and notice Sally, holding her teddy bear and making her **way downtown, walking fast, faces past and she's homebound** down the stairs. Jeff whips his head around and then he turns back to me and glares, returning to sharpening his knife.

"Hi Masky," says Sally as she waves at me and takes a seat next to Jeff. "Hi Jeff." He grunts in response and she continues humming, looking around the room.

Since there is nothing to do, I stare at the dark walls in the room, listening to Sally's little song. She stops and looks at me. Her tiny voice brings my attention back to her.

"OH! So what happened with the girl with the pretty purple hair?" she asks, which catches Jeff's attention too.

_Miriam_, right. When a target escapes, you'll be tormented for letting them get away for the rest of your life, I can't tell them, especially not Jeff.

"Oh yea, her, yeah, she's taken care of," I lie. Sally looks at me, she can probably see right through my lie.

"Yay! Here—she stands and takes my hand in her tiny one—tell me _all _about it."

I realize what she's doing, so I nod and stand up too, walking up the stairs to her room.

I glance back at Jeff who's watching us, closely. Sally opens her bedroom door and leads me in, patting a space on the edge of her small bed, ushering me to take a seat. I do, and she sits next to me and stares up at my mask.

"So what _really _happened?" she asks, crossing her arms.

I chuckle at her, always acting so bold. I decide to trust her, hopefully not a decision I'll come to regret. I look down at my feet and then back up at her large green eyes.

"Okay. She got away," I admit, quietly.

"Figured," she says with a little too much enthusiasm. She hops up off the bed and walks over to the basket where she keeps all her toys, she picks up a doll with long hair and a brush and moves to sit down again, brushing out the doll's hair.

"I like her. She's different," She doesn't take eyes her off the doll as she says this.

"Do you think I should go back for her?" I ask, remembering my message to her.

"No way mister, she's special. She's like a fire, don't put her out, maybe slendy would want to pick her up."

She puts her doll down and smiles at me. I realize she might be right, she is a fire. She's a fighter and she _is _proxy material.

"What do you think I should do?" I ask her, crossing my own arms over my chest.

"Go back and talk to her. Now tell me everything," she says looking at me excitedly.

I chuckle at her. "Okay kiddo."

I explain everything, leaving out only the explicit details of her assault on my err, manhood. Once I'm done, she looks tired, so I bid her goodnight and **GO TO SLEEP **myself. I take my mask off and get under the blankets.

I think about how to talk to Miriam. Should I ask her to become a proxy? Do I apologize? I have no idea what to do, seems I have to sleep on it.

I fall into a dreamless void of darkness, known as sleep.

I awake around 9 hours later, look around my room, and almost give into temptation to go back to sleep. I sigh and throw the covers off me and open the drawer next to my bed, and take out a pill bottle. I take two with some water and walk over to my bathroom and adjust my brown hair ever so slightly. Once I'm finished, I put on my mask and shoes and adjust my jacket. I ignore everyone and head out the door. The sun is shining brightly and I am just staring at my feet as I walk, trying to devise a strategy.

Once I make it to Miriam's neighborhood, I start to keep behind buildings, and sneak around. Some sketchy guy with a mask might raise a few red flags. I see a tall, redheaded man leaving her apartment, he gets into one of the cars in the driveway and that's the last I see of him.

Who was that? Why is he leaving her apartment right now? Is that her boyfriend? That's absolutely none of my business. What she does and who she associates herself with is her choice; I came here for a perfectly professional proposition. I sneak around to the window, and try to open it. Locked, not surprising.

I try all of her windows and doors, but they're all locked. This doesn't surprise me, it just disappoints me. I sigh as I duck behind a bush near her living room window. I watch the window intently when she walks out, already dressed and ready. She grabs a pair of sunglasses off the counter and her bag from the hook near the door. She looks around the room and tucks a knife into her bag, she steps out with a very audible click of her heels and I suppress a chuckle. She wears those things all the time. I watch her drive off in her pink mini-cooper. She's such a Barbie.

I begin following her, hearing the sound of Frank Sinatra coming from her car every time she stops or I get relatively close. I see her park at her college and walk in; once I reach the university, I pace a bit wondering how to approach her. I remember the disposable phone and send her a message.

_Come outside to the parking lot _

The message is good; it's straight to the point, easy and fast. I get a reply from her soon after and I'm not sure if I should smirk or frown at it.

_And why in the FUCK would I do that, hm?_

Hostility, is that her approach? I smirk behind my mask; two can play at that game.

_Because I believe we should talk, and you have nothing to worry about, considering the knife. _

It was a great way to lure her out, I know that much. I hear the cute little click or her heels against the tile and then the door opening-wait; I think the click of her heels is _cute_? That's weird…

She steps out and rolls her eyes. She moves in front of me and places one of her hands over her hip. I study her; she has short curly light blonde and purple hair, pale skin and soft facial features and a tiny frame, standing naturally probably only around 5 feet, she's skinny, almost shockingly so. Chick needs some cheesecake in her. But what really catches my attention are the eyes on this girl. So blue…

She shifts and I'm guessing my "studying" is creeping her out just a tad. She crosses her arms over her chest, possibly to cover herself from my staring. It wasn't like that; I was seeing if she has what it takes to be a proxy.

"What do you want?" she asks, sounding uninterested.

I realize now might not be the best time to offer her to be a proxy, so I make a mental note to ask her about it later.

"Like I said in my message, to talk," I say. I realize this is the first time she's heard my voice, and a silence falls over us.

She begins staring at me, chewing subtly on her bottom lip. I like watching her do that, she does a lot of subtle gestures, I could watch her do that for hours. Tim, don't start getting sidetracked. Focus.

She stops staring and biting her lip.

"Talk? You tried to kill me," she says. True, I did. I was hoping she wouldn't play that card, I'd hoping she would ask "what about" or something along those lines. I let out inaudible sigh and say the best thing I can think of:

"But you're here."

"Because I kicked your balls!" She exclaims, which causes me to blush a bit behind my mask and look down at my boots, she sure didn't hold back. Got to admire that, I suppose. I look back up at her electric blue eyes.

"I have every right to call the cops on your ass. Give me one reason not to," she spits at me.

Well…I got nothing. If she calls the cops, they won't catch me. But still, I would be recognized easier, which is an inconvenience. I hear her voice again, this time, minus the hostility.

"Well, thank you. I'm alive, which is good," she says, almost sweetly. Honestly, I didn't expect that, but I appreciate it.

"You're welcome." She flashes a polite smile.

"I'm Miriam, and uh, I've nicknamed you Masky," says Miriam.

"I go by Masky, actually," I smile behind my mask.

She extends her tiny hand to me; this is a little friendly for a girl I tried to murder. I stare at it, but ultimately take in it my own and shake it gently. She begins staring at my mask and I drown in her swimmable blue eyes. She's so different, so _fiery._ How is it, that she's different? So allur-

She clears her throat and I snap back into reality. She bites her lip again, and begins stuttering and then gestures towards the door. I nod and begin walking to nowhere.

W-what _was_ that?


	5. Chapter 5: Surprise

I stumble back into class, and suddenly, all my classmate's eyes are on me. I glance around the room; my throat is like parchment, I'm unable to speak. The lights adorning the walls of the room are spinning; I can feel my legs wobbling on the thin heel supporting them. My eyes roll high and I give up on steadying myself, I fall onto the ground and the last thing I hear is the squeak of shoes against the tile floor before I lose consciousness.

Darkness, it's all I 'see' for the next few hours. I swear I dreamt, but I have no memory of anything. Once I awake, I'm instantly greeted with a terrible pounding in my head. I squint and look around, I'm on a couch, but I don't recognize the living room I'm in. The room is dimly lit, only a small lamp on a table in one corner of the room. I can see a record player on another table, a clock, and various paintings decorating the walls. The whole room has a classic theme to it. After about a minute of scanning the room, I realize I still don't know where I am.

I sit up on the couch with a groan, my body is sore and my headache is awful. I'm painfully thirsty and ridiculously tired despite just waking up. I spot my bag across the room and move to grab it, that's when I realize I'm in an entirely different outfit. The jeans and shirt I once wore are nowhere to be found, and instead I'm in a white silk night dress. I'm puzzled and uncomfortable at the thought of someone changing my clothing and doing god knows what else while I was unconscious.

Once I reach my bag I put those thoughts aside temporarily and dig in it for my phone. I feel my phone and fish it out, but when I try to power it on, it doesn't illuminate.

"Dead. Glorious," I sigh out to no one.

I continue to dig in my bag for my keys to get out of this unknown place, but can't find them with the lack of light in this room. The knife I packed is gone too; I would notice if there were a giant pointy object occupying half the space in my bag. I sigh, feeling defeated and frustrated. My headache is pounding now and I'm growing more annoyed by the second.

"Miriam, you're awake!" a deep voice that makes my head throb rings out.

Once I get over my initial shock over the loud voice in the silent room, I turn around to be faced with the aging features belonging to my professor, Mr. Puth.

"Professor?" I ask.

"Miriam you should rest" he says, advancing to me.

"No, I think I've had enough rest, thank you. I want to go home now."

"Not even a drink?" Puth asks as he pulls a liquor bottle from behind his back.

"No. Do you have my keys, or my clothes?" once I finish my question, another one pops in my head and I spit it out before Puth can even answer my first. "Also, did you dress me?"

"Oh. Yes, I did," Puth almost whispers.

The thought is cringe worthy to say the least. I don't like anyone seeing me in a bathing suit, much less undressing me! By now I'm angry and very annoyed, having felt assaulted from Mr. Puth's unnecessary advancement. I glare daggers at him but force myself to calm down.

"Do you have my keys?" I ask again.

"Please, don't leave so soon," he says before stepping towards me again. This time I take two steps back and hit a wall. He sees this as an opportunity and places both of his hands on either side of my head, entrapping me. His tall frame towers over mine and his uneven breathing close to my ear repulses me. I struggle but he grabs me with a strength I didn't know a man with such a skinny frame could possess.

"Let me go, you slimy bastard," I choke out while squirming around.

"You have a hold on me, D'Amico. You're so special" he confesses into my neck, with his hot breath.

He takes my wrists, grasps them in one of his hands, and slams them above my head. He takes my chin into his other hand and forces me to look into his disgusting wrinkling olive green eyes. He leans in to kiss me, and with the limited amount of saliva I could produce through my dry throat, I spit in his face.

He becomes enraged instantly and slaps me across the face, hard. And it's this that throws me over the edge of anger: I bring my knee up to his groin and thrust upwards with all the force I can muster. He grunts and loosens his grip on me enough for me to squirm out of it. I make a break for the exit out the room, and see a door. I take this opportunity and run for it like nothing I've ever ran for. I turn one of the locks horizontally and fling the door open. I don't dare turn around but I hear uneven breathing and footsteps behind me, and it's enough to make me run unbelievably fast despite my exhaustion. I look around and see that Puth's house is a very solitary one and that he hardly has any nearby neighbors.

I spot a forest and run into it. I've seen too many horrors movies to know where this is going but I don't have a whole lot of choice, only hope I'll come out of this alive.


	6. Chapter 6: Expect

Despite me being chased by a wacko douchebag, I found the run to nowhere oddly relaxing. The cool air that brushed my exposed skin, the darkness that seemed to go on forever, and the twigs that would snap every time I lifted my foot and dropped it back on the moist ground seemed to all come together in bliss.

Man, I'm a lunatic.

I slow my pace a bit and slowly turn around, I don't see Puth. However, I continue to run for what seems like eternity. After long, I can't take any more running and stop entirely. I stand in the middle of the forest with my hands on my knees and pant like a dog for a good 5 minutes. After I allow my breathing to return to normal, I look around and find myself in another uncomfortable predicament; I am in the middle of fucking _nowhere. _

I sigh and search to see if I can make something of my current situation. I look around and spot a nearby tree short enough for me to climb but tall enough for me to see what lies ahead.

"Well if Lara Croft can do it so can I," I say to no one as I make my way over to the tree.

I steady and prep myself and then I just go for it. I grab onto one of the branches closest to me and use it to hoist myself up. I slowly but surely make my way up until I'm about 15 feet off the ground. I use my hands to part the leaves of the tree and look ahead. For a while I only see other trees and occasionally a squirrel run past. It isn't until I squint my eyes as much as I can that I see a faint red gleam in the distance. It doesn't look too far but also looks to be a day's journey away. It could be anything and I could just be digging a deeper hole for myself by wasting my time to go investigate, but I don't have many other options at the moment.

_Well, sooner I start sooner I finish._

I slowly make my way down the tree again, emerging with only a few scrapes and a new found hatred for tree climbing. I steady myself on the ground then my thirst hits me like a bus once more. _I need to find water._ This thought alone is enough to drive me and I begin walking with a speed I didn't even think I had with my lack of energy.

It could've been 20 minutes or 2 hours, I couldn't tell; but by the time the light was apparent enough to see without having to squint my eyes, the morning colors were vibrant in the sky.

_Just a little more _

A familiar sensation washed over me and my head began to spin once more, my knees began to wobble and my eyes threatened to close.

_I just need to make it to the light_

I stumbled my way forward a couple more steps and finally made it to the light, which turned out to be a house – no, a mansion –black in color and extravagant in size.

My shaking legs couldn't take anymore and after about three more steps, I collapsed. I used the remainder of my energy to crawl towards what seemed to be my salvation. I was almost to the door when I lost my ability to move another step. Everything went pitch black, and I could vaguely hear a door open with a creak and footsteps before I totally blacked out.

Why does this always happen to me?


	7. Chapter 7: Unlikely

**Authors note: feel free to skip. **

**Wow! Nearly 2 years later and I'm a little surprised people are still reading this silly little fic! Not to get too personal but I started this with my then-best-friend Greg and now down the line I'm happy to say we're together and I can credit at least a little of that to our joint effort on this story. I believe it was the start of something great. Anyway, now that I'm a bit older I realize I should address some issues I thought of while re-reading this story. The first thing I want to say is if you're still interested in this story you're in luck because I feel like it's only right to finish it. Next, I do not intend to glorify the (fictional) story of Masky and his murderous tendencies, I was interested in the story when I started writing this fic and I feel I should continue writing this story as if I were still in 2015. Lastly, I did change details and reference Marble Hornets later on. If any alteration to the canon Masky story/Marble Hornets offends you, I'd advise you don't read this. However, if you're still interested I won't keep you any longer! Enjoy.**

I wake to another throbbing in my head. My memory's fuzzy but I can remember my creep of a professor forcing himself on me in his gross old divorced white guy house, the thought alone makes me gag. Well I think of gagging, I'd actually do it if my throat wasn't drier than the Sahara. I look around; the place I'm in is cold in every sense of the word. The lights are blue and so powerful I can hear their buzzing, at least I think I do, it could be my head too. The air conditioning bill in this place must be through the roof-every pore on my skin is standing on edge because of the temperature and the fact my only protection is a flimsy nightgown. I can thank my professor for that. I swear to you next time I see that pervert he's going to be unemployed, hopefully behind bars if the police decide to do their job, with a busted nose, bloody lip and a black eye. Back to the present, I try to move but leather straps are holding me onto some sort of medical table. The room is otherwise empty but I'm almost certain I can see a table with medical equipment on it. I squint and adjust my vision to clearly make out a syringe and a scalpel. Well, I'm either finally getting those breast implants I've always wanted or this is the end of the line for me. Okay, you're probably wondering why I'm so calm and collected when I know there's a large possibility that this medical table is going to become my casket. Well, this isn't my first rodeo. I'm a survivor and a firm believer that I always find a way out. It's still insane that in less than 24 hours my life has gone from at best, drama-filled to at the very least, murderville. However, no matter where I've found or find myself, I've never lost who I am and I don't plan to. Speaking of plans, I try to wrestle out of my bonds to no avail. They're too tight; I realize I need that scalpel. It's no less than a few feet away from the edge of the table I'm lying on so I attempted to use my feet to latch onto it-again, to no avail.

"Of all the times to be short" I groan to no one.

I begin to shake violently back and forth to get out, and the straps actually seem to loosen! I feel hope filling my body, giving it enough adrenaline to keep shaking. I'm about halfway loose when I hear the door creak open. Okay, all hope is gone; time to play dead.

I lie back and close my eyes giving myself time to devise a new strategy to find out where I am, but more importantly how to get the hell out.

I hear uneven breathing over me for a short second before I hear footsteps at the edge of the table. Next I make out the sound of wheels rolling toward me before they stop and the breathing becomes audible again. I don't dare move.

"I like when my puppies play dead," a raspy voice almost whispers as I feel a cold blade across my face.

Alright, I'm busted but at least I'm busted with a plan. Whoever this is hasn't noticed I'm free enough to grab his blade from him. I take in a silent breath before I open my eyes and nearly faint again when I see deep red eyes piercing mine. No lids, just deep crimson evil orbs. I move my own eyes up and down and notice the striking ivory skin and jet black hair on the thing standing over me. Before I have a chance to speak I silence myself. That's when I notice the joker-like smile on whoever is in front of me. I'm shocked and scarred, yes, but determined and cunning are two other adjectives you could use. I suck in a breath, close my eyes ever so slightly and whimper like the puppy he thinks I am. Time to stall until I can think of something genius.

"Oh Mr. Smile Man please don't hurt me, I have a wife and kids!" I declare in a half-real, half-fake whimper.

He stares back and if he could squint in confusion, I'd imagine he would be right now. "You think you're funny?!" he spits at me.

"No, I just-please don't hurt me" I wail, almost taking on the accent of a southern belle.

"I'm going to hurt you like you've never been hurt before, just because you want to get smart with me", I can hear the anger in the last word as he leans in and uses the scalpel to lift my ratty hair up.

"Wait-he loses the fit of rage I could hear boiling in his last sentence-are you Miriam? As in, dead Miriam? Boss is going to be in stitches over this!" he chuckles close enough to my face I can smell his disgusting graveyard breath.

"Yes I am, is there any reason you and every other psycho killer in this city know my name? What am I your 'damsel in distress poster girl'?" I say with a roll of my eyes.

His fury lights up his eyes to a whole new shade of red if that were possible. He continues to stare into my soul as he moves the scalpel resting on my chin down my neck and onto the top of my shoulder, gradually applying more pressure until he starts to draw blood at my forearm. I squirm and suppress the urge to whimper, instead opting to suck in my lips and move my eyes away from his. As he moves to my hand I seize the opportunity to quickly grab the blade as it looms over my palm. I easily pull it out of his sweaty hands, I'm thankful everything came together enough that he wasn't holding onto the tiny blade with a death grip. I grab the blade and firmly lodge it in his throat. He chokes and his blood spills onto me, making me into some sort of botched scream queen Carrie rip-off.

"You bitch!" he chokes out as he rips the blade from his throat to stab me. I'm about a millisecond quicker though, and dodge to the left. His hand comes crashing down on my throat as he forces me still and holds the blade over my heart. I prepared myself for a cold and hopeless death, until I hear a shout from the open door, giving me just enough hope to want to keep fighting.

"Jeff, stop! Let go of her! She's one of us!" the familiar voice I heard in my school's parking lot shouts.

My would-be killer turns to the door with the speed of a leopard, with his permanent grin and the scalpel pointed in Mask's direction: "listen one direction, your little crush almost crushed my trachea, 'one of us' would never pull that shit. Talk to our superior about your feelings later. Daddy's has a bitch to skin." Jeff moves the blade to my throat as I glare at him. Mask moves toward us.

"Look Jeff I know you don't really get what we do here, but when I say 'stop she's one of us' I mean stop waving the fucking blade around like you're insane", spits Masky in a new tone of voice I hadn't imagine could come from him, despite his attempted murder on me.

"I am insane you moron!" spits Jeff in his petty battle of wits.

"Girls, girls you're both pretty. Can someone untie me or at least kill me? I'm tired of this high school drama, I'm pretty close to stealing back that blade and jamming it in my own throat," I say, sarcastically. The snarky retort caused both of the Halloween-costume clad men in front of me to look back from their argument. Masky looked around, unsure of what to do and the confusion in the air only thickened when Jeff bursted into maniacal laughter.

"Now she's a keeper! Let me get you get out of those leather straps and maybe someday into more comfortable ones, darlin'". Jeff choked out through his sickening laughter.

Masky was insecure about Jeff untying me, even I could tell, but I also could tell he knew better than to push his luck. The thought was annoying at best that I was lying here while this freaks' cold hands roughly freed me. I was alive after all, but annoyance turned to fury when he slipped his freezing hand onto my inner thigh.

He had already released my arms so without thinking I lifted my still bleeding arm and threw my hand against his face in a haunting slap.

"Trying your lucky, baby girl" Jeff groaned as he squeezed my upper thigh. "But, I'd be a liar if I said I didn't like playing rough".

Mask stepped in: "That's enough, Christian Grey. Get out of here, go to sleep or something".

Jeff was enjoying the situation too much, but retreated anyway with a grunt. However, not before snapping his gaze back to me: "This isn't over, pet". His words echoed in my mind even after he left. Was I seriously some skinny, boobless, Elvira to these creeps? What ever happened to a quiet life filled with an obligatory loveless, relationship and a small business? Hell, a week ago my friends thought that life was weird. I laid in my outrage, still secured by a few final straps, spanning across from my hips to my feet.

Mask made his way to me, and I realized I could see his eyes through the mask in this lighting. Hazel orbs filled with sorrow, surprising coming from a murderer. "I'm sorry for him, he's a little-"

"Insane", I finished. "Just get me out of here, believe it or not I got places to be and one hell of a sob story to cook up for my boss and my customers".

"Customers?" Mask asked curiously, still undoing my straps.

"Relax, I'm not a hooker. Nothing against them, I bet there's one somewhere in my exact situation. I'm a baker, small business to pay the water bill. Not that you'd understand, what is this, some sort of murder half-way house?" I say in between breaths, now clutching my wound.

"You might want to stay for dinner, I'll explain everything", Mask calmly replies undoing my last strap. He offers me his hand and I glare, attempting to hoist myself up with my legs before falling back. I give in as I take my bloody hand and tuck it into his gloved one. I'm pulled to my feet in a second thanks to his strong grip.

"Thanks, for this, helping me. That's really sweet even though I'm getting a Stockholm syndrome vibe from you and your buddy. I must've been high on the adrenaline to ever thank you for keeping me alive earlier today. Truly though, I am thankful for you and your actions in the last 5 minutes. Rain check on dinner, though, sorry". I finish as I begin my way to the door after pulling myself together.

Mask sighs and snaps back: "I suppose you'll find your own way out of the 'murder half-way house' and back home, then?"

I turn back, realizing he's manipulating me. Still, he has a point. "Alright, one dinner, you get me home alive, or you're dead".

Masky grins behind his well, mask.

I try to muster a sassy smile, but I wince as soon as the thought makes it to my face: "Not to be a bad guest or anything, but can you maybe get me a Band-Aid, water and a change of clothes? I'm kind of thirsty bait for you thirsty Bate's Motel knockoffs".

Mask nods and leads the way. The past day or so has been a freak show; I'm just praying this dinner is at least better than the one I shared with Parker.


	8. Chapter 8: Savior

I walk silently alongside masky, occasionally glancing up at him. He towers over me by a foot, making me feel insecure in all my short, thin glory.

"Here's one of the extra rooms, there should be clothes in the closet. Go get a shower. I'll bring the kit and the water," Mask says as he gestures to a surprisingly nice guest room.

I'd say something smart-or anything at all-but I feel exhausted so I just nod, enter the room and close the door behind me. I lean up against the door and let a tear fall from my eye.

This was terrifying; I felt awful, sick and disgusted. I want to be in my bed, watching TV, baking, hanging out with Daniel; I'd even kill to be with Parker, ridiculous as that sounds.

I wipe the tear that's made its way to my cheek. I breathe in a breath of the humid mansion air. I've almost calmed my nerves when a knock behind me jolts me.

"It's okay it's me", a high, childish voice rings behind the door.

"Who's 'me'"? I muster.

"Sally. I'm a friend Miriam," the voice sings back.

"Okay Sally, I hope this isn't a trick," I say hesitantly as I click open the door only to be faced with a little girl. Long brown hair hung to her lower back, clad in a faded pink dress, clutching a stuffed bear. It took me a second but when I met her big green eyes, I noticed the blood coming from her scalp.

"Oh my god! Are you alright?" I choke out.

Sally giggles, "It's okay. I mean, it's not, but it's okay. I'm not real anymore". Sally shrugs, "I'm telling you missy, I'm a-okay. Have a seat". Sally takes my hand and leads me to the silk-sheeted bed.

"So, what happened-I mean if you don't mind-" I stutter.

"Long story, I'll tell you later", Sally replies. "Are you staying for dinner?" Sally says as she gets up, grabs a hairbrush, and begins passing it through my hair-also through the knots and dried blood-obviously with a struggle.

"Ouch", I protest as I meet her glaring forest eyes, as I notice they're beginning to moisten. "I mean yes, I'm staying for dinner and I need your help to get ready!" I say, my voice coated with mock enthusiasm only an adult could sense. My false interest resonated with the hauntingly innocent child before me.

"Yay! I'm gonna make you so so, so pretty", Sally promises. I breathe in, preparing for my hair to be ripped out of my scalp when once again my 'prince charming comes to my rescue'. "I see you've met Sally, Miriam", calmly voices Masky.

It's odd to hear him say my name; it sends goosebumps down my skin and chills down my spine.

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart", I say with a pat to her own messy locks as she smiles.

"Sal, can you go help with dinner?" asks Masky. I see the brief pain in her eyes, but she understands and stands. She places the brush on my lap with a grin, and then she's out the door, closing it behind her.

Mask leans awkwardly against the door frame: "She's really-"

"Sweet", I finish, a little impatient and annoyed. Mostly from the lack of blood loss, but in part due to the loss of the first friendly face that hasn't tried to murder me in the last day and a half.

"Finishing each other's sentences already?" Masky mocks. I glare at him for his attempt at charm and he instantly stiffens. "Sorry", he whispers. "Here's the kit," he says, changing the subject as he advances and takes a seat next to me on the crimson bedding.

"Can you shower first?" he asks in an almost whisper.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" I snap back.

"I'm sorry but you really should wash the blood off of you", he says, a tad more confidence in his voice.

I roll my eyes and realize he's right, but that doesn't mean I have to be nice. He tried to kill me, I was insane to ever become so friendly not 10 hours after his attempted murder on me when he showed up at my school. I realize we're still locked in eye contact, I was totally spaced out.

"Okay fine", I breathe out with a hand through my hair.

I stand and take a few steps toward the dresser. I open it up and suppress a laugh.

"Is this a joke?" I ask, turning to face him.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.

"Is this the Addams family mansion? These dresses are the type of thing Wednesday would wear! And there's literally nothing else!"

"This was an old friend's room, she left her stuff behind", Mask admits, a lack of patience evident in his voice.

"So what, I get her hand-me-downs?"

Mask gets tired of my attitude visibly as he crosses his arms across his chest. "Unless you want one of Sally's dolls' dresses, take what you can get, Barbie. I mean those dresses will probably fit you. You're a walking skeleton!"

"No, you'll be a real life skeleton if you keep insulting my body," I spit, crossing my arms over my chest to mirror his body language. "What? It wasn't enough to try to kill me? You had to drag me out to your little Westminster Abbey replica and insult my body too? Does that get you hot, you freak?!"

Mask advances toward me in a flash and pushes me up against a nearby wall, putting both of his arms on either side of my head.

I choke back a witty side comment as I stare intently into the eye holes in his mask. Hazel orbs set on fire with fury stare into my being. I've never been more terrified as I look around desperately. The eye contact we share seems to last an eternity, but in reality it was probably only a few seconds.

"Freak?" he says with a raspier voice than I've ever heard. "No, a freak sits at home on her sofa watching stomachs being split open. A freak listens to that noise you call music. A freak buys enough food to feed a family but doesn't dare eat a thing. A freak acts like she gives a fuck about her life when she used to put it in danger every single night after school. But finally, a real freak puts on all the pretty make-up and clothes she doesn't need just so people don't know she's a freak".

"Who are you?" I say as tears threatening to fall form in my eyes. "How long have you been watching me?" A tear falls as my free hands move slowly up to Mask's face.

"I'm just someone you probably never met, never noticed or never gave a second glance because you were too busy-"

My hands rip the mask off his face, letting it fall to the floor, cutting off his sentence.

The look on his face is one of shock and panic. But his face isn't horribly disfigured. It's just as normal as he appears to be. Hazel eyes lined right under thick brown eyebrows, a roman nose centered on his face and thick rough lips twisted in a scowl. I don't even stop myself when my hands mindlessly run down his sideburns, tilting his jaw down to face me. His eyes find my phantom hands as he moves his hazel orbs left to right in a panicked frenzy. He takes one of his strong arms and pins both of my wrists above my head.

"Who do you think you are, Barbie?" he spits at me.

My tear stained eyes find his as I choke out, "I know you, I know you, Tim".


	9. Chapter 9: Mixed Emotions

"Is this a joke?" his words haunt me, the same ones I spoke just a few moments ago.

"No, Tim we had photography together," I muster a small nostalgic smile. We never talked because you were a big bad senior with a leather jacket and cigarette behind his ear, and I was a geeky, girly sophomore".

"It wasn't a cigarette," he says with a small smile.

"Oh, well if I didn't regret not being friends with you a second ago, I definitely do now," I giggle. "But you gotta get a handle on your anger, and lose the handle on my arms," I finish, dropping my smile and wiggling enough to make my discomfort clear.

"Right," Tim says with regret in his eyes. "I don't even know where to start-"

"Then don't," I interrupt. "Look, that was a seriously shitty thing to say and assume about me. It doesn't matter if it was all true. Yeah, I have issues, but you make me look like Elmo when you look at yourself. If you ever do look at yourself, that is".

"I'm sorry. Maybe work on your attitude and interrupting me?" he asks rhetorically and mockingly.

"Real funny. It'd be a real knee-slapper if I could even slap my knees. Seriously, let go", I demand.

Tim lets go without a comment of any kind this time. I massage my wrists as he takes his rough hand and places it under my chin so I can get another look at my high school stalker. Stalker? Admirer? Hypothetical friend? The search for an appropriate title is cancelled when he stares into my soul again. Less frightening this time, but it still chills me to the core.

He breaks the staring contest when he pulls me into a hug. I physically protest out of shock but relax against his frame and wrap my own arms around his lower back.

"I always imagined we'd save the hugs for the high school reunion," I say to break the silence.

Tim realizes the situation's oddity and pulls back. I never imagined I'd miss the feeling of a hug from someone who tried to kill me, but the loss of his embrace pulled me back to reality.

I bit at my bottom lip as Tim moved to the closet. I was biting away with my head against the wall when I noticed him eyeing me. I looked back at Tim and smiled a small smile, releasing my lip from my teeth in the process.

"Here's something. I know it's not much but I hope it will fit until I can take you home later tonight", says Tim calmly as he hands me a white sleeveless maxi dress.

I eye the gown in confusion. "There's no way I missed that dress!"

Tim sighs: "yeah you didn't miss it, actually", go get changed and cleaned up. Dinner in 20, I'll explain everything, just like I promised".

I nod and grab the dress, careful not to tarnish it with the blood on my silk sleep wear. I grab the brush Sally left me from its previously abandoned spot on the bed. I open the lavish bathroom door and take in the cooler air before I step in and shut the door behind me. I steal a glance at myself in the mirror. Running mascara, tangled, blood soaked hair, clothes to match and a new-found desire to get back out there. I sigh as I strip and step in the shower. Before I turn on the water I hear Tim set something on the nightstand and sit on the bed.

I turn the warm water on and let it coat my body. The feeling of a good shower after the time I've had is pure euphoria. I open my mouth, the droplets falling into my parched throat. The water rushes over my hair and face, washing the sins of the last 36 hours down the drain. I open my eyes to search for soap only to find an array of scented lotioned soaps, essential oils and mosturizers. I grab a little oil and mix it with the soap to ease the blood out of my hair and leave it soft. I leave the lather in my hair and I spread the soap over my body. I smooth away the blood and dirt. After I've rinsed to a squeezy clean version of myself I stand in the water for another moment.

When I finally leave the glass shower, I grab a smooth, clean towel and dry myself. I stand in front of the mirror, towel clad as I rinse my wound with cool water. The blood on my arm starts to run again and I panic. I don't want to stain the dress or pass out, so I urgently call for Tim.

"Tim, little help please!"

Tim bursts through the door, "What? What happened?" he notices me in my dripping wet glory, wearing only the lucious towel with blood falling to the floor. "I'm sorry I wouldn't have-"

"It's fine", I finish for him. "What? I'm just bones, it's no big deal right?" I mockingly ask him, my irration returning. I mean, the guy tries to kill me and doesn't bat an eye, but he can't man up to fix my wound when I'm in a towel.

"I didn't mean that, Miriam there's nothing wrong with you", Tim admits with a smile.

"Aw, thanks! But there is. Hello! Arm. Blood. Too skinny to stand. High chance of me passing out if you don't get the kit", I sigh as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

He doesn't dare waste another minute as he quickly grabs the first aid box. When he returns he quickly hoistes me onto the bathroom counter and I express my bewilderment on my face.

"Sorry. Needed you at my level", his eyes leaving mine and not daring to return.

He produces a witch hazel pad from the kit and smooths it over my open wound. I wince, the alcohol burning my exposed skin.

"Fuck, Tim" I moan out in pain without a second thought. I feel him hesitate against my skin as he looks into my half-lided eyes. He quickly breaks the eye contact and resumes the pad to skin contact. I glance at my arm, the blood stopped running but it still hurt like hell.

Tim uses his gloved hand to apply healing cream to my gash and applies a large bandage.

I didn't even realize my head was back, but I moved it when I became aware of it to share another eye-contact session with Tim.

I couldn't take the awkwardness that loomed over us since Sally left. I decided to hurry the agonizing silent moments between us up.

"Thanks Tim. Appreciate it. Little room would be nice", I say, half serious, half joking. As much as I'd hate to admit I'd miss his presence even if it was starting to overwhelm me.

"Right. I'll be out there to take you to dinner", Tim says. I can hear the thoughtless casual tone in his voice, but I can also hear him attempting to "play it cool".

I cock a brow, betraying my pact with myself to avoid him and his uncertainty with me.

"So I can explain, a-and take you home", he stutters.

I laugh, and carefully help myself down from the counter. My eyes not leaving Tim's as I watch him tense. I move toward him, our faces only inches apart.

"I liked you better when you were quiet", I whispered in his ear. I felt him let out a breath.

"Get out, Tim". I pulled back and looked him dead in the eye. He stormed off and shut the door with a thud, leaving the kit behind on the counter.

I'd feel bad if I wasn't such a vindictive, manipulative, petty bitch. That side of me doesn't come out often, only when someone goes for a low blow, like Tim just did.

I grin at myself in the mirror as I shed my towel and pull the dress over my head, zipping it up with ease, feeling simultaneously insecure and empowered. I've gone braless with ease and commando like no big deal-but never the combination. I let the worry go as I brush out my messy hair until it's smooth, only to ruffle it again. I've never liked straight hair. My eyes still burn even though I've washed away all the potential irritants. It dawns on me a moment later; I've never worn my contacts for this long. I need the solution as soon as possible. Aware it's unlikely that the house has any, I rummage through the first aid kit for eye drops, to no avail.

After everything I've gone through today, itchy eyes are water under the bridge. I'm still itching for water in my eyes though. I brainstorm before coming to a conclusion. I have to ask Tim.

I creak open the door to find a familiar masked figure sitting sternly on the bed.

"Hey," I say with regret in my voice. I realize burning your bridges before water is flowing underneath them isn't the best idea. I snap out of my poetic bullshit and walk toward Tim, taking a seat next to him. "I'm sorry, Tim".

Silence fills the room. He doesn't even acknowledge me.


	10. Chapter 10: All At Once

**Masky POV. No glamorization of self harm/eating disorders intended. Trigger warning for aforementioned. **

I sat on the bed and latched my mask over my face. I sat silently and my mind began to wander, as it so oftenly did.

Should I really be hurt? Miriam always had a habit of picking out insecurities like flowers once she started hanging out with the popular girls. Did it hurt? Hell yes it did. I spent most of my life silent and bitter-I show her my weakness as the man I used to be and she stomps all over it! Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit!

I'm not a sociopath, I still feel things! I wanted to explain everything to her, but I feel betrayed now. I feel like I'll become even more of a laughing stock when we join the others in the dining room.

I knew Miriam in high school; she was always bright and bubbly. I remember her as a fresh faced freshman. I never went for younger girls, but she was different. She didn't gag when she had to work with the nerds, the mentally-ill, or the weird kids. She had so much love to give. Her face was full of color and she had these amazing eyes that would soften any room, despite the coolness in them. We had an elective together, but we were never paired in woodshop because I was older and a guy, so I would use the bigger, more dangerous equipment. I'm aware of how it sounds, but don't misinterpret what I'm about to say. She had long dark hair that hung to her hips; she'd always opt for a braid or a bun in the workshop. Her hair wasn't what I'd stare at though. Her body was like one that belonged to a goddess. Amazing hips and thighs, strong arms, slim chest. All the guys-all my friends-would always comment on her body. Sure, it was something I loved about her, but I saw her soul. She was gorgeous. She flashed a smile at me the day before summer vacation started, and that was the last time I ever saw that genuine smile.

I ended up having another class with her. I saw her schedule on her social media and nearly fell out of my seat when I compared mine to hers. I was a little thrown off when she deleted all her pictures taken before and after summer vacation. Her whole page was blank other than the new schedule. I just assumed she was over FaceBook and opted for a new account on another site. I walked in confidently. This year I would talk to her, I'd bathe in her light. When the third bell rang and I didn't see her my heart sank. I assumed she skipped or dropped the class. I sat in disappointment, and when the teacher took role call I hadn't even noticed until a friend of mine poked me back into reality.

"Earth to Tim-bone", my future &amp; somehow current frat-bro friend, Parker chuckled at me.

I smirked back until a name called truly pulled me back.

"Miriam? Miriam D'Amico?" the teacher called.

Somewhere buried in the back with 2 other girls a hand flew up and rang back throughout the room; "Here!"

I was excited she was here, I leaned in her general direction and when I caught no sight of her I was puzzled. It's impossible, I just heard her.

I stared and her icy eyes met mine. Those were Miriam's eyes, but that wasn't Miriam.

Shockingly thin, pale, and blonde. Nothing like the Miriam I knew. Her long black hair had been cropped to just below her shoulders. The curl previously worn in her hair had been burned out with a flat iron. Bangs covered her face and a new nose ring glittered in the sunlight.

She stood as she noticed me staring and walked across the room to throw out a piece of paper. I nearly gasped when I noticed the new Miriam. Thighs previously hugged in her tight jeans were replaced with a free following pink skirt hugging to nothing. Her legs were so thin walking looked painful. Her button up white top hung loosely onto her tiny frame. She was always so humble, seeing her covered in gold rings, bracelets, and necklaces was a slap in the face for me. I felt my heart drop again, I'd rather hear she'd switch schools, moved the country, failed the class or hell I even wish she were dead. She looked so miserable. She flashed a smile at me. Her teeth looked doll-like-they were so white, so perfect, so unlike the Miriam I knew and loved.

I knew she was dead in some way, so I became obsessed with finding out the truth. I visited countless witches, psychics, and mages. Whoever I could find to give me an answer. All this time I didn't dare look at her, I hated her. I hated her because I knew she wasn't her. Eventually I found myself at slender mansion. I traded my freedom for her wellbeing. I asked for a protection spell to heal her. I wanted her back so badly. I graduated not long after, and I kept doing everything I was told to do to keep Miriam safe. I was at her prom, her graduation, her first job.

I watched her to look for improvement. I saw her cutting herself in her room, throwing up in the bathroom, hiding her tears with makeup, bleaching her hair brighter and brighter so no one would recognize her. It hurt me so much, and it hurt when she moved out of her grandmother's house even more because I knew she'd be even worse off when she was alone. It hurt when I didn't know where she moved, it hurt when I lost her.

I realized she was gone when I would see her empty room every time I lurked around her old house, and I realized I'd lost everything.

A few months had passed and I was sitting at the mansion when the newspaper caught my eye. I saw an advertisement for "Miriam's Cheesecake!" my eyes widened as they traced the lines underneath the boldly printed letters until I found an address. I searched and when I discovered it was address to Miriam's community clubhouse, I waited for her to sell her pastry to a young couple before I followed her home. I watched her get ready to go out somewhere, all dressed up. She'd gained a bit of weight since I last seen her and I was so relieved. I ducked behind a bush when she slipped a heel on and jogged to her car, the blaring music that erupted from it jolted me straight. Once she pulled out of her driveway, I chased after her.

It hurt when I saw Parker from high school kiss her. It hurt when he led her into the restaurant. It hurt when I saw Terry Orchard, a girl known for her promiscuity in school, slip Parker her number. It hurt when I saw Miriam drive off, clearly deep in thought. It hurt when I saw Parker go back into the restaurant and bring Terry out with him. It hurt when I watched them drive off together.

It hurt when I watched Miriam smoking a cigarette, knowing it was a large contributor to her frame and health. It hurt when I snuck into her house to finally free both her and myself from the evil curse on us. It hurt when she kicked me out of her house-in every use of the word.

But when I went home that night, I knew there was still some left of the old Miriam alive in this phantom body of hers. It hurt when I lied about killing her. I was relieved when Sally understood my dilemma. I was hurt by Miriam's initial hostility to me outside of her University. I was crushed when I had to pretend I didn't know her. I was happy I got to see her flash a real smile at me. I was angry when I waited for her to come out, so I could keep monitoring her, and I saw her crummy professor stuff her into his car. I was angry when I saw him force himself on her at his house. I was so angry but I couldn't do anything. His house was alarmed and secure and I couldn't risk Miriam getting into trouble.

I was so angry that when Miriam escaped just like I knew she would, I stabbed Miriam's professor until I blacked out. When I came to, I saw he was nothing more than a mess of the man he used to be.

I was paranoid when I saw she hadn't made it home. I went to the mansion to clear my head and begin the search for her with the help of my boss. I was furious when I heard she had been tied up in the torture room. I was ready to kill Jeff when I saw him about to take everything I've worked for. I had to fake being calm to get into Jeff's head, feeling the growing fury I had to suppress for Miriam's wellbeing broke my heart.

I had never been so mad in my life than when I saw my biggest enemy grope Miriam like an animal. I was relieved when she was able to muster up her wit on the way to the guestroom. I was happy to see her bonding with Sally. I was relieved to see her blending in as best as she could. I was irritated when she disrespected Jane. I was so angry when she assumed I was some sort of freak of nature when all I wanted to do was help her. I regretted my horrible words to her as soon as they left my mouth. I was filled with nostalgic heartbreak when she pulled off my mask. My heart skipped a beat when she accepted me by touching my face. I was so surprised by this feeling I panicked and held her hands over her head. I had never been more at peace than when she said she remembered me. I was overjoyed when she hugged me back and accepted my conjured dress. I was nervous when she called me into the bathroom. I was embarrassed when she echoed my words back at me.

I'll admit I was so unbelievably aroused when I hoisted her up on the counter and she moaned my name. I was at her mercy when she whispered in my ear. After I heard what she said, once again I was hurt. So unbelievably hurt.

When she came out and poured her feelings to me wearing the most beautiful thing I've ever seen her in I couldn't face her, so I said nothing.

I'm hurt. She doesn't know how much I've done for her for her to be happy. She hurt me so badly. She reminded me I failed her because I was too chicken-shit to tell her how I felt. Maybe I'd never be in this mess if I did. I'm hurt, and I'm angry, but not at Miriam. For once, I don't blame Miriam. Yes, she made me feel everything in the book without batting an eye, but I'm not angry about that. She's no longer the walking lifeless corpse I was so pained to see; the new Miriam is a wicked, cunning, strong, and calculated woman.

I've never been more in love with her in my life.


	11. Chapter 11: Crystal Clear

"Look, I was hurt. I'm hurt now. You went for all my insecurities, I don't let that go without a fight," I apologize.

Tim turns to face me and then sighs. "Are you ready?"

"Are you angry," I reply quickly.

"No, Miriam. I'm not angry at you. I could never be. I have so much to tell you if you can promise you won't hate me," Tim says, grief and something else I can't quite pinpoint on his tongue.

"I can promise I can never hate Tim Wright," I admit, shyly. "But I can hate the man who tried to kill me. Fair?" I finish.

"Fair. I'm glad you can hear me out after everything," Tim says calmly.

"Tim, do you have eye drops or contact solution?"

"Yes, drops are in the drawer. Maybe I can put them in, you shouldn't be moving that arm," Tim advises.

"Trying to gouge my eyes out again?" I say with a smirk, indicating my mock nature.

"Never again. What do you say?" Tim questions with a small chuckle.

"I say it's can't be any worse than how they already feel. Hit me with your best shot, Masky," I say biting on my bottom lip.

Tim turns away from my intensity to dig through the bedside drawer. I watched him as my mind began to drift.

Ever since high school I've been attracted to Tim. I'll admit, when he graduated I never moved on. I could never find him anywhere so I thought his friend Parker would fill the gap. Needless to say, he's always been lacking but I've never had the confidence to pursue anyone else knowing who I had always wanted. I never gave my body up to Parker because while yes, my body is mine, I always felt it should be Tim's too. I did all these terrible things for him. I did it all to impress him because I knew he'd never like me as I was.

My thoughts are interrupted as Tim fishes out the eye drops. He places the small vial on the nightstand and takes off his mask. His muddy brown hair is wild and unkempt as it's released from the mask. I can almost hear it beckoning me to run a hand through it, or grab fistfuls in pleasure. This time I seriously snap myself out of my daydreaming. I can't think anything until I hear what he has to say. Until then, he's just Tim meets ghost face. He tried to kill me. I can't forget that. I can't be attracted to him. I have to make myself forget the rush I get from him when he touches me or says my name.

"You okay?" Tim asks, concerned. I can see the pain in his eyes but I don't dare inquire. His features are nearly the same as they were when I first met him. Facial hair runs along the sides of his face and his jawline has chiseled more than I remember since I last saw him. Overall, he's still Tim to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine", I smile to cover my nerves. "Ready to go?" I ask, dodging the lust in the air.

"As I'll ever be. Lie back; don't worry if I get close. I have to be safe, ok?" Tim warns.

I suck in a breath, knowing damn well how crazy I get in close proximity to Tim. I nod anyway, preparing myself to be relieved of my eye pain, murdered in cold blood, or something I wouldn't dare think out of fear it could come true. That thought occupies half of my being while the other half has about 300 witty retorts ready to spit back, but I've done enough damage with my mouth for one night. I lie back horizontally on the bed, watching as Tim straddles me. I panic and spit the first thought that comes to mind.

"What the fuck Tim?" I question, "Is this necessary?"

"I told you I'd be close", he purrs calmly, battling my nerves with his tranquility. "I can move if you want," Tim offers.

The suggestion hangs in the air before me. Is it bad I don't want to take it? Is it bad I want him to take me, right here right now? Is it bad not an hour ago I was afraid to get to know him but now I'm ready for him to explore every inch of me? This is so unlike-

"Miriam?" Tim uses my name to ensure I'm alright, although it just reminds me of how the chills I once felt when he spoke it before I knew who he was have turned into heat waves brushing over me.

"I'm fine it's okay, I'm just nervous", I admit. I hadn't thought about saying that out loud as I watch the words fall into Tim's ears. He takes on the most simultaneously feral and collected look in his eyes. Is he angry at me? Am I really going to die lusting over my killer? I nod once more and he gets back into position on top of me. Helpless and as unlike me as this sounds, whatever happens next, I would live or die with.

His gloved hand opens my left eye as he lets the liquid fall in. I instinctively blink as the moisture absorbs into my lens. I already feel better. He moves to my right eye and repeats his process, I blink both eyes rapidly. I can see Tim looming over me. I don't know what I want to do; I just know I've wanted him so long. I wrap my arms around his neck and I pull him down on top of me, I'd kiss him but I'm afraid to. Instead, fearing I could potentially ruin something between us, I pull him close to my body in another hug. He scoops me up, taking care not to crush me as he rolls over until I'm on top of him, guiding me to straddle him in the same way he was straddling me not ten seconds ago.

"You're so beautiful, Miriam," he says as he traces a gloved finger down my face. The tone he used drove me crazy, it was laced with something I was ready to pinpoint-lust. I bit my lip and made sure he saw me before I buried my face in his neck and let my hands wander from his face to his chest. I could feel his every muscle tense and it was amazing. His hands had found my lower back and rested there while I explored down his chest. He groaned out loud at my touch. I was just past his stomach touching the hemline of his pants with the very tips of my fingers when a knock at the door shook us both out of our lust induced trance. I stood up and away from Tim, not daring to meet his eyes out of shame for what I started.

"Dinner's ready, tell your friend!" Sally exclaimed outside the door before I hear the pitter patter of her shoes in the opposite direction down the corridor.

"I hope I didn't just make things awkward, I'm sorry", I confess, finally mustering up enough strength to meet Tim's eyes.

"I've wanted you since I met you," Tim admits with the same low bedroom voice that caused me to throw myself at him. Tim puts back on his mask and turns to me: "Ready for _dinner_?" Tim's innocent comment isn't inherently so innocent when I pick up on the enunciation on his last word. I realize there's so much more out there and the thought sends a shiver down my spine. The tingling feeling spread over my body is only amplified when Tim's hand finds its way back to my lower back.

He leads me downstairs into the dining room, where a squad of bloody creatures dwell. I suck in a breath and introduce myself: "Hi I'm Miri-"

"Oh I know", a disgusting gurgling voice chimes at the end of the table. There sits Jeff holding his fork and knife face up on top of the table. "Miriam's a real doll; she's even mostly bones like one! I like chewing on the bones," Jeff spits out.

"Enough Jeff," an older sounding man rings out. Only, he isn't a man. He towers over all of us standing at about 9 feet tall. Tentacles sprout from his back and his face is pale as snow. Virgin snow, that is. His face is devoid of features and the rest of his exposed skin is white to match. He's clad in a suit and carrying a dish to the table.

"Please, Miriam have a seat and do your best not to mind the lack of manners from some guests at this table," instructs the lean man, authority and tranquility audible in every word.

Tim moves me to two open chairs on the table and pulls mine out for me. "What a gentleman," Jeff grunts under his breath. The whole table hears his bitter comment but they all ignore it. The lean, suit clad being takes a seat at the head of the table.

"Miriam, I am Slenderman. You've met Masked Man and Jeffrey I assume," sings Slenderman, crossing his hands on the table as if to pray. Not only does this house have an energy consistent with a hatred of prayer, there's no food in front of Slenderman, thus no reason to pray.

"I have, and I've met Sally too," I say before taking the drink of water I've been thirsting for.

"Excellent. Well there's Ben, Toby and our house dog who will not be joining us tonight or ever. He's demonic," I chuckle at what I can tell was the suited man's attempt at humor.

"Ben and Toby, hello I'm Miriam," I say turning to the two unfamiliar faces in the room that were luckily close together. They wave apathetically in unison as I break eye contact with them. I let my hand drop under the table to squeeze Tim's. He accepts instantly, ready to calm me down.

"Lovely, thank you for everything Slenderman," I say smiling.

"You're very welcome. We have some explaining to do as I'm sure you were informed," Slenderman decides to waste no more time as he opens his tray of food. A large salad sits before the table; I scoop a skimpy amount onto my plate. As I wait for everyone to grab their share.

"Since she's my guest, I'll start", Tim's calm voice rings out beside me. When no one objects Tim turns to face me.

"Miriam, you were always special to me. Since the moment I saw you." Tim told the tale of his love for me, how far it took him, where it took him and why he tried to kill me.

I was shocked at everything. It was so much to accept at once. I tried to understand why Tim did what he did but I came up empty. I was done fighting against myself and my own logic though; it had almost killed me before. I decided to thank Tim for his honesty and everyone for listening. I apologized to Tim for the damage I did and what I made him think he needed to do. I was baffled first and foremost, but I was graced with a whole new admiration for Tim. Yes, he's guilty of going too far, but I pushed him.

I squeezed his hand again, this time to let him know I could never hate him or his alter ego.

I felt him relax; somehow I think he was expecting me to hate him. But I could never. Never in my life could I hate Tim Wright.


	12. Chapter 12: Rain Check

"Now that I've got a lot cleared up. I still would like to know who you all are, what your purpose is, and where I am," I proclaim, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Unless that isn't something you can tell me," I assure.

Slenderman speaks: "I cannot tell you where you are in fear of being outed. I can tell you who we are and what our purpose is, sound good?" he confirms.

"Great," I reply.

"We're a house of spirits, creatures, and those who are neither that practice magic or have exchanged something to join us. We all are a family, we all love one another in our own ways and we are all sworn to protect," explains Slender. "As for what our purpose is, it's to rid the human world of evil and those who intend to hurt. We get a bad reputation, sure, but we know what we do is for survival and to benefit the human race. Some of us can see the future and kill children who would've killed millions later in life; some can stop a crime that would start a world war. Sometimes when a mortal intervenes on a spiritual world without a direct invitation we can and will kill them. We're guardian angels in a sense. So few of us act for ourselves, but it is more common among those of us who are still mortal. We kill yes; we kill those who warrant a killing. Miriam, you did not warrant a killing, so you were able to cheat death. When you do something that warrants death, we will come for you just as anyone else would. Does that unnerve you?"

"I'm not sure. Should it?" I respond, letting my personality shine through.

"Neutral, I appreciate that," Slenderman chimes.

"Think of Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends meets Dexter meets Charmed," elucidates Ben, a boy clad in green, picking at his food.

"I see. Thank you for sharing what I can imagine is a very big part of your livelihood," I say with a smile. Tim grabs the middle of my thigh as I turn to him, now I'm unnerved. I smile to him, signaling it's time to go. I'm surprised he actually understands my non-vocal comment as he begins to speak.

"Thank you everyone for treating Miriam so fairly tonight. I toast to all of you!" Tim raises his glass before downing the white wine contents of it. "I'm taking Miriam home, see you all later."

I smile, "thank you for everything!" I say as Tim and I leave the mansion through the nearby kitchen exit.

The dinner table all looks at each other in confusion before Jeff pierces the silence: "What?!You guys have never heard of 'fucking' before"? Jeff says maniacally as Sally covers her ears. The table falls into silence. The lively pair had lead the table's conversation to a dead end.


	13. Chapter 13: Climax

**HELLA SMUT UP AHEAD. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. **

"Where are we going Tim?" I say as I struggle to keep up with his enthusiastic jogging.

"The car," Tim tells me, slowing himself and pulling off his mask, "my car."

I pull him towards me, breathing in the most beautiful scent I have ever smelled. The smell of the trees and Tim's scent, a scent that I couldn't quite pin-point. "I'm alive, the world is ours. Take me", I whisper into his ear. "Anywhere". The pause was short but my breath was heavy. I could tell Tim wanted to sneak me back into the guest room and make me clutch the silk sheets until I ripped them by the way he glanced from me to the mansion, then back to me.

"No way," I say, nibbling on Tim's ear as I wrap my arms around his neck. "3 years of fighting isn't going to boil down to the guestroom. I want you. I want you to want me. I want us in the perfect place and I have just the idea," I say, pulling back with a firm bite on my lip. I wanted so much more of him and I couldn't wait. Not after everything I've found out about him and everything he did for me.

Tim can't seem to control himself any longer. He lifts me up bridal style in a flash and carries me to his black tinted SUV. I leap out of his grip and dig in the front of his jeans until I fish out his keys, not breaking eye contact and still biting down on my lip.

"You're driving me crazy," groans Tim.

"Paybacks a bitch. I'm also driving your car, get in," I tease, seductively. I get in the car just as Tim hops into the passenger side. His hand finds my upper thigh after he lifts my dress, he squeezes it and leans into my ear: "I'm going make you feel things you've never imagined. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you. How long I've wanted you," promises Tim and I turn to face him, only for him to pull back into his seat. "Step on it, Barbie," Tim commands with a smirk. I bolt out of the forest on a narrow path like there's no tomorrow. I pass a neighborhood or two before I see my own house. Tim has an intrigued aura about him. I keep driving until I reach my destination: the abandoned light house we photographed as a group assignment in the second semester of our photography class.

"Remember?" I ask.

"How could I forget? My photographer's note was that it's the best place in Boston, the only place I really believe magic exists," Tim recalls with emotion in his voice.

"I remembered that," I steal another glance at Tim before I'm out of the parked car and running up the stairs to the top. Tim follows swiftly behind me and he almost catches me, but I beat him to the roof. The black night sky surrounds everything with only the moonlight and glittering stars to illuminate us. Tim reaches the top and sees me with my back to him as I gaze at the night sky. He walks towards me and wraps his arms around me from behind.

"Tease me now, Barbie," He whispers into my ear. I turn to face him, noticing he's still wearing the gloves but his coat must've been discarded on the first step. His tight black T-shirt and pants hug his every toned muscle. He catches me staring, but now I don't even attempt to hide it.

"Like what you see?" asks Tim.

"So worth waiting for," I whisper.

Tim lets his hands fall to my bottom before he lifts me up into his embrace, I wrap my legs around him and I feel how badly he wants this, how badly he wants me. The thought sends a throbbing to my bare core and I realize how ready I am. I grab him by his shirt and finally get to kiss the rough lips I've been eyeing forever. The kiss grows more and more heavy until I break it.

Tim looks up at me, waiting to see what's going to happen next. "Lie down," I attempt a command but it just sounds like a beg. Tim complies and sits on the lighthouse floor first, then lies down, never even loosening his grip on me. I take his hands off my bottom and guide them to the straps that hug my shoulders. Tim slides them off revealing my heaving breasts as my back arches, bringing my bare pussy just over his painfully hard erection.

Tim grunts at the feeling as he lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He runs his hands down my chest, taking in every section of my skin. I feel my nipples harden as he brushes over my breasts with his gloved hands. Tim looks up at me and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, not breaking eye contact with me. "Tim, fuck", I moan in pleasure and feel his cock twitch against me again. He releases my already sore breast from his mouth as his hands travel down to my hips, pushing the beautiful dress down even further.

Tim sits up and removes my dress. There I am, in front of him: naked, wet, throbbing and ready for him. He sticks a gloved finger into my wet cunt, another finger rubbing my clit vigorously. I throw my head back and moan, my cries growing louder until Tim has me screaming. I feel myself clenching onto his fingers as my breathing steadies.

"Tim," I moan, moving my head forward to look him in the eyes, his fingers still in me. "I've never done this before".

"Are you a virgin?" Tim asks, "did you wait for me?" Tim's words are clouded with lust and as I adjust myself to lean in. I feel that he's managed to get even harder.

"Yes," I breathe out into the crook of his neck. I pull back to see an unbelievably aroused look on Tim's face. Tim removes his gloved fingers from me and puts them in his mouth, not breaking eye contact with me. I feel myself throbbing again as I watch Tim lick every drop of me from his fingers.

"I want to thank you for waiting for me, princess", says Tim in his raspy voice that drove me crazy. I was forgetting how much I needed him, how much pleasure I wanted to give him so I decided to take the lead. I pushed him back onto the floor: "and I want to thank you, daddy, for everything you've done for me", I leaned in and bit his lip. Tim's fingers traced my jawline. I quickly took my own hands and took off Tim's gloves. I lead one of his fingers to my mouth and sucked on it, my eyes never leaving Tim's hazel ones.

I throbbed for Tim when I heard him moan out: "fuck, princess".

I move downward to remove Tim's form fitting t-shirt, revealing rock hard abs underneath. I lick Tim from his stomach to his lips. I share a quick and passionate kiss with him before I focus back onto his chest. I trace my hands down Tim's chest, finally landing at his belt buckle. I undo the clasps and pull down Tim's pants to his knees as he buries his hands in my hair. I pull down his underwear next, revealing his huge, throbbing cock. I suck in a breath, my nerves and arousal at their zenith. I take his tip into my mouth as Tim moans out into the night sky.

I bob my head up and down, moving my eyes to latch onto Tim's. His eyes spring open as soon as I look up. Tim is getting so hot, exemplified by the feral look in his eyes and his grip on my hair. Tim moves his calloused hands from my hair to my hips, guiding me and my mouth away from him.

Tim stands to remove his pants completely as I watch intently. Tim looks at me and smirks as he comes back to join me on the concrete. He pushes me onto my back gently and straddles me once again; I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips.

"I'm glad you've had your fun, but daddy promised you something and I don't break promises", Tim reminds me in his lust filled tone. "I promise I'll never hurt you," he assures, sweetly. This tone contrasts the desire I previously heard. The thought of half of him wanting to fuck me so hard I couldn't walk and the other half wanting me to feel safe reminded me how much he still cares regardless of the circumstances. I throbbed at his words and moaned when I felt his tip slide down my juicy cunt.

Inch by agonizing inch, Tim filled me with his thick, hard cock until he had hilted himself inside me. The intrusion was painful because of the size difference and the fact it was my first time. My chest heaved up and down as I tried to breathe.

I heard Tim moan out: "You're so tight and wet".

I look to see Tim marveling at every inch of my moonlit skin. I decide in that very moment whatever pain I might feel with Tim is nothing compared to the pain I'd feel without him.

"Fuck me, Tim," I moan. The confirmation hanging in the air for a millisecond before Tim obeys, eagerly. He removes himself from me just as slowly before picking up his pace in his next thrust. I scream out in pleasure as I feel my body adjust to him. He repeats the process of pulling in and out until I feel him adjust his position on top of me so he's comfortably filling me.

Now his thrusts are harder and faster. I begin panting furiously as he continues to ravish me.

I'm close to the edge of my euphoria when his strong finger finds its way back to my clit. He rubs me vigorously and before I know it I moan his name and fall limp beneath Tim. I watch as he thrusts a few more times before he looks just as spent as me. He pulls all of his length from me and I instantly miss the feeling of him.

Tim looms over me and strokes his still hard dick a few times before I watch his warm cum spray out onto my chest. I smile widely as we both come down from our nearly psychedelic orgasms. Tim uses the rest of his strength to move himself to lie beside me. I cuddle my exposed body into his arm as he holds me. His hand finds my hair again but now he's gently stroking it.

"I love you," I confess in a whisper so quiet it could barely be heard.

"I love you too, Miriam. Everything about you. I always have," replies Tim in a sweet and gentle tone.

Here, watching the stars and the moon overhead as I lay naked alongside Tim is something I'd never expect would happen to me. Somehow, it did and I'm so unbelievably grateful for this moment. No witty retorts, no petty feelings, just safety and care in his arms. I'm where I've always wanted to be.


	14. AN & Additional Commentary

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. It was a lot of fun for me and Greg and to finish this for you guys! Quickly, I had no intention to romanticize to mental illness/eating disorders/abusive relationships. I picked the charterer of Masky 2 years ago because I thought he fit the prototype for a damaged bad boy who'd do anything for an equally broken girl. I could've picked a better character or made up my own for sure-and I may just do that in the future-but I always finish what I start, so I hope this little smutty romantic creepypasta flick resonated with you. Happy reading.


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